That Time of Year
by orangetulips
Summary: A oneshot for Puckleberry Week on Tumblr. "This was a stupid project, a stupid class, and even stupid Noah Puckerman could make stupid flowers and she's supposed to be perfect at everything and Mrs. Williams was stupid and she just hates this entire day."


_**A/N: **__This is another oneshot for Puckleberry Week on Tumblr (topic: Puck and Rachel as kids). Feel free to stop on by my tumblr (gleekalyze dot tumblr dot com) or my LJ (orangetulips dot livejournal dot com) and visit me!_

_**Disclaimer: **__I do not own Glee or Puck or Rachel. Sadface._

**That Time of Year**

Her lower lip began to tremble the minute she walked into the art room and saw the subject of today's project on the chalkboard.

Mother's Day Gifts!

The enthusiasm in the exclamation mark that followed the topic was the exact opposite sentiment that Rachel Berry felt.

Rachel was a confident, precocious little six year old diva in training who was showered with love from her two daddies. She was happy, she was confident, she was content in any and every aspect of her life. She never had want for anything - tap shoes, she got, voice lessons, she got, yellow dresses with creamy lace and ruffles, she got, even when she asked for a baby monkey she got one until he pooped on the floor and then she wanted the baby monkey to go live at the zoo, so, yes, she got that too.

But the one thing Rachel didn't have? That she wanted so, so, badly?

A mother.

It usually didn't bother her. Her daddies were always involved, a staple at her dance recitals, vocal concerts, ballets, school plays, parent-teacher nights. It almost made her not mind having a mother.

Almost.

But two weeks ago this girl in her class, Quinn Fabray, announced she was having a sleepover party for her 6th birthday. Rachel wanted to go so badly and talked about it for a week every day after school to her daddies. She decided she wanted the manicurist (Quinn hired one_ just_ for her party, Daddy!) to paint her nails pink with gold stars. And she couldn't wait to eat those tiny sandwiches and drink grown up tea (because Quinn was having a caterer too, Dad, a _caterer_!). And it would be so much fun, Daddy, and I can go, right, please, I can go?

She was positively vibrating with excitement on Wednesday when Quinn started handing out the invitations during recess.

But in the middle of the playground, Quinn pointedly told Rachel, her hands on her hips, that she doesn't get an invitation to her _mother-daughter_ sleepover birthday party because, duh, she doesn't have a mom and this is only for _mothers_ and _daughters_. And then everyone else started laughing because…well, she didn't know why everyone else started laughing, because it's not very nice to laugh at someone, really, especially when it isn't her fault she didn't have a mom.

Rachel was inconsolable after school that day. Her daddies brought her glass upon glass of water, told her that they'd call Aunt Cheryl in Lafayette to drive up and take her, but Rachel didn't want to hear any of it. The night of the sleepover, they took her to a play in Columbus, a revival of West Side Story and she almost forgot about the party.

It never really bothered Rachel that she didn't have a mother. Until the fact was shoved in her face.

So when she walked into the art room and saw the topic of the project, she immediately got that same feeling in the pit of her stomach and that burning behind her eyes that she got when Quinn and her friends were laughing at her on the playground.

Mrs. Williams clapped her hands. "Class, please take your seats!" The older woman was not one of Rachel's favorites, mostly because Mrs. Williams did not appreciate Rachel singing the entire score of Oklahoma! while she created artistic masterpieces.

Rachel didn't understand why. I mean, whistle while you work, right? And everybody loves her melodious voice. Everybody.

Rachel plopped herself onto one of four chairs at the rectangular table that she shared with her classmates, Jennie Farber, Len Thompson, and Noah "Puck" Puckerman. She sighed and started wringing her hands under the table, trying to come up with a plan to get her out of doing the project.

Meanwhile, Noah and Len were throwing some spitballs up at the ceiling and Jennie was screeching because one dropped onto her. Noah cackled with laughter. Normally, Rachel would have been disgusted and given Noah and Len a speech about the unsanitariness of licking paper from a pile that was touched by approximately 354 other students, but she was too busy worrying about the Mother's Day dilemma to care.

"Today we are going to make a bee-yoo-tiful gift for your mothers for Mother's Day which is this Sunday!" Mrs. WIlliams clapped her hands. "Tissue paper flowers in a variety of vibrant colors!"

Rachel raised her hand and began speaking before she was even called on, standing up in her spot. "Mrs. Williams can I please go to the music room to work on - "

"FIRST of all, Rachel Berry, I did not give you permission to speak," Mrs. Williams sharply retorted. "And, no, you may not leave class. Kids these days do not appreciate the hard work their mothers do, and I don't think it is too much to ask that you create a bee-yoo-tiful project to show your appreciation."

"But Mrs. Williams, I just - "

"RACHEL. Sit. Down."

Puck glanced out of the corner of his eyes and saw a defeated Rachel slump back down in her seat.

Tissue paper flowers sound dumb, he thought. But if there's one subject Puck loves, excels at even, it's art class, and he will make whatever dumb Mrs. Williams comes up with. Plus, the sooner he finishes, the sooner he can sneak into the supplies cabinet in the corner. He loves using that rubber cement stuff cause he can roll it up to look like boogers and make Jennie Farber scream when he sticks them all over his face.

Mrs. Williams explained the craft, which seemed easy enough. Eight pieces of brightly colored tissue paper, folded accordion style and wrapped with a pipe cleaner. Then you pinch each piece of tissue apart and fluff it up to make a flower.

Easy. Piece of cake. Fake boogers, you are mine, he thought.

He got to folding. Rachel was still quiet (kind of disappointing, usually she sings, which causes Mrs. Williams to flip out and Puck loves watching teachers flip out). He watched her slide out her chair and walk up to Mrs. Williams. She talked quietly, but Puck could still make out the conversation.

"Mrs. Williams, I'm sorry, but I don't want to make a Mother's Day gift." Rachel's voice was quivery.

"And why not Rachel? See this is the problem with you kids these days," Mrs. Williams used the phrase, 'kids these days' entirely too often. "You don't care to appreciate - "

"I…I…I don't have a mother," Rachel whispered. "To make a gift for."

Puck felt a pang of sympathy for Rachel. He knew she had two daddies; he sees the three of them at temple all the time, and he thought it was awesome that she had two dads to hang out with, while he had exactly no dads to hang out with. His own father had deserted them two years ago, and while Puck doesn't remember too much about his dad to really miss him, he remembers how much it stinks to not have a parent when the world assumes every family has one mom and one dad.

At the next table, Quinn Fabray and Santana Lopez could hear Rachel and Mrs. WIlliam's conversation too. "Look at her dress, it's gross," Santana whispered and pointed at Rachel. "I bet if she had a mom she'd get better clothes."

Puck's no saint himself; he makes fun of Rachel (and other people) sometimes too, but it wasn't very nice to make fun of someone for not having a mom. He leaned over while the two girls were still whispering. "Santana, you smell like a baboon butt," he said.

"That's so dumb, Puck," Santana said, but a red blush started creeping onto her cheeks and the rest of her table was giggling.

He leaned back in his chair. Puck was kind of awesome at making tissue paper flowers. He had three done already.

Meanwhile, Mrs. WIlliams wasn't budging on the craft. "Rachel, then make flowers for an aunt, or a grandmother," she said exasperatedly. "You must have some female in your life that deserves a gift."

"But…but…" Rachel desperately stammered. "This is unconstitutional!" She was nervous, upset and agitated, and her voice grew louder.

"Rachel Berry, you will make the project as explained or you will end up in detention!" Mrs. WIlliams had it with Rachel's precocity. The rest of the class stopped and stared at the two of them. Rachel was mortified. The absolute last thing she had wanted to do was draw attention to herself and the problems she had with the project. Too late.

Her face red and flushed, she dragged her feet on the tile floor, grabbing a fistful of tissue paper as she walked by the supplies table. Her eyes remained down as she yanked her chair out and flopped back down.

The rest of the class quickly averted their eyes back to their projects. Jennie and Len were hurriedly stacking their pieces of tissue paper. Puck's eyes shifted to Rachel. She was wiping tears off of her cheeks.

He's kind of amazed at how Rachel, who is usually so loud and dramatic with, like, everything, could cry so…quietly. No one would know she was crying unless they looked at her, and everyone was keeping their eyes on their own projects right now. He doesn't normally care when other kids cry. In fact, if it's a boy that's crying he usually makes fun of them.

But he knows what it's like to not have a parent. He knows how mean old Mrs. Williams can be. And he really doesn't mind Rachel all that much, she can be a little annoying but she's not that bad.

"She's so mean, Mrs. WIlliams," he whispers over to her. "She's a big fat meanie."

Rachel didn't say anything. She was trying to fold her tissue papers but, Puck could see, she wasn't doing it right. She kept folding each side into each other instead of fold once, turn the paper over, and then fold in the other direction. Rachel was getting frustrated. She crumpled the paper in her hands and ripped two sheets when she was trying to pull them apart.

Her anger was growing by the second. This was a stupid project, a stupid class, and even stupid Noah Puckerman could make stupid flowers and she's supposed to be perfect at everything and Mrs. Williams was stupid and she just hates this entire day and she's just had it.

Puck decided to help. "Rachel, you're not folding it right," he whispered. "Look at mine, I'll show you."

"Shut up!" All of a sudden the silent classroom was full of Rachel Berry voice. "I hate this class! I hate this project!"

The entire classroom froze. Twenty two pairs of eyes widened and looked at the source of the outburst.

"RACHEL BERRY, YOU GO TO THE PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE THIS INSTANT!" Mrs. Williams screeched.

Rachel hurled her chair back with such force it clattered to the floor and she stomped out of the classroom. She left in such a hurry and huff, her little pink trolley bag was still sitting next to her chair.

Santana and Quinn covered their mouths with their hands. Puck could tell by their eyes they were laughing, highly amused by the scene. He probably would be too. But he just…he just couldn't and he doesn't know why and, geez, those girls need to just _stop laughing_ at Rachel.

"As for the rest of you, finish your project in complete and utter silence." Mrs. Williams threatened. "If I so much as hear a peep from any of you, you are going to the principal's office."

She turned her back.

Puck muttered, very quietly, "Peep."

Mrs. Williams whirled around. "Who said that?"

The class was silent.

"NOAH PUCKERMAN, to the principal!" She yelled.

"How do you know it was me? I didn't do anything!" he protested.

"Noah, it's ALWAYS you," Mrs. Williams growled. "Go. NOW!"

He packed up his things. "Rachel forgot her backpack," he pointed out to Mrs. Williams.

The teacher sighed tiredly, "Then take it along with you, since you BOTH will be in detention this afternoon. GO."

Puck felt a little silly rolling Rachel's pink trolley bag next to him as he walked through the hall, but whatever, he was pretty proud of himself for that episode. "Hey Miss Chambers," he greeted the secretary as he swung the office door open. Miss Chambers knew him well. He's a frequent visitor to the principal.

"Oh, Noah," Miss Chambers sighed. "Now what?"

He grinned. "Art class," He replied cheerfully. He couldn't not "peep" after Mrs. WIlliams' comment. I mean, really, the situation called for it. Plus, it finally did shut up Quinn and Santana, so that alone was worth it.

He took a seat in his normal waiting-for-the-principal chair and peered through the office window. He could see Rachel gesturing wildly to Mr. Anderson, the principal. She must have lost her debate, because shortly after, he saw her head drop into her hands and her shoulders shake a bit.

He doesn't care when girls cry. He doesn't. But when he sees Rachel get up from the seat in Mr. Anderson's office and she's just so sad and she's crying and she's looking down and his stomach feels all weird because, God, she's just _so sad_, he quickly opens her trolley bag and shoves all three of his tissue flowers in there.

Anyways, no amount of flowers are going to make his mom any less mad at him when she receives the third phone call from the principal this week about his "behavior."

Rachel got out of detention, thankfully, by threatening to call the ACLU (again). And crying. She just couldn't take the constant reminder of not having a mother, and Mrs. Williams was so unwavering. She didn't want to make flowers for an aunt, she didn't want to make flowers for a grandma, she wanted to make them for a mother, but she _didn't have a mother_.

She has to apologize to Mrs. Williams, and also to Noah Puckerman, since she told him to "shut up." She also has to write, "I will not disrupt the class" fifty times tonight on a page of loose leaf paper and hand it in tomorrow. And a note was sent home from the principal to her dads.

When her dads read the note, Daddy just shook his head and smoothed her hair, while Dad gave her a serious look. "You can't yell out in class like that, bug," he said, She knew his use of her nickname meant he really wasn't angry with her.

She went upstairs to do her homework, and to her surprise, when she opened her bag, 3 familiar looking yellow and pink tissue paper flowers fell out.

Rachel knew she had to time herself carefully in order to thank Noah for his flowers without anyone noticing. She knew they were his. She saw those three perfect flowers at his spot, three perfect flowers that he tried to show her when she flipped out on him. Three perfect yellow tissue paper flowers that _he_ gave to _her_.

She may only be six but she knows the hierarchy of the playground. Noah was kind of friends with Quinn, and she didn't want to do anything to draw the attention of the Quinn group. After writing out a plan of attack and corresponding timetable in her favorite pink pen later that night, she came to the conclusion that before school, as the classes lined up to go inside, would be the best course of action.

When her daddy's car pulled away from the curb the next morning, she hung back, bending down to pretend to tie her saddle shoe. Noah's bus always came last, so she dawdled until she saw him join the line. Her quick calculations showed that everyone else in her class was there already, and Noah was in the final spot. Perfect. She took the spot right behind him.

They were always the last class to walk into the D-Wing door of the school. The line began to snake into the school before it stopped again. Someone at the front was causing a disruption and everyone in the line craned their necks to see what was going on. Finn Hudson had a bloody nose. She couldn't have planned it any better. This was her chance.

She stood on her tiptoes to put her face by Noah's ear and whispered, very softly.

"I liked the flowers, Noah." She was sure no one else could hear it.

He whipped around defensively, but then he realized it was Rachel behind him.

"Oh," His eyes immediately fell to his feet. "Oh. Um. No big deal." He muttered.

Rachel took a deep breath and chewed on her bottom lip. "It was really…sweet," she whispered.

Everyone was still busy looking at Finn's nose (gross). Noah was still facing Rachel, his feet scuffing the ground in front of him. "Yeah, well, Mrs. Williams is mean," he said quietly. "and…and I'm sorry you don't have a mom."

It was only a split second. In fact, he would have thought he imagined it if it weren't for her hand on his wrist, as Rachel Berry stood on her tiptoes and gave him a featherlight kiss on the cheek. "Thank you, Noah."

In the blink of an eye it was done. Her hands were back at her sides, the line started moving again and he shook himself back into reality and turned around to keep up with the rest of the class.

But Rachel could hear the smile in Puck's voice as he whispered back, "You're welcome, Rach."

When they walked through the doorway of the classroom he leaned back towards her. "Wait'll you see what I do to her when we make Father's Day gifts," he added.

Her name tag said Jeanine, but he thought it should have really read, "shitty bag packer", because she was shoving the yellow tissue paper into the Hobby Lobby bag and crumpling it completely and probably poking holes in it with the green pipe cleaners she put in beforehand and, fuck, just, _stop ruining_ everything, shitty bag packer stupid ruining cashier chick. If he wasn't in such a rush, he would have made a snide remark. He threw a ten on the counter, called, "Keep the change", over his shoulder as he dashed out of the store.

"Geez, what the hell is his problem," Jeanine muttered as her customer left. "Crazy bastard." It's not her fault they were busy; it was a Sunday in May, that's their busiest time.

He said he'd only be a minute, and her eyelids were drooping when he walked out of the room earlier, but still, he had to hurry if he wanted to get everything done in time. He threw the bag in his truck and gunned it to get back before she woke up.

When Rachel woke up, she saw her husband, all sprawled out on what had to be the most uncomfortable hospital chair ever. She giggled a little at the sight, because he was snoring rather loudly. Rachel had no idea how he managed to sleep there the last two nights, but hopefully, today she'd be discharged and they both could at least get a few restful hours in their own bed.

Her eyes panned across the room, taking in every sight. Balloons, a teddy bear, an unopened bottle of champagne and two flutes, an overnight bag open with a mess of clothes spilling out of it.

Her eyes settled on her immediate left, and tears pricked at the corners as she smiled.

Right next to the sleeping baby in the bassinet labeled _Caroline Puckerman_, sat a scrawled note: "Happy Mother's Day, babe."

Next to a vase of twelve yellow and pink tissue paper flowers.


End file.
